Just before lunchtime


It was surprising how quickly one could get a meeting with the Minister of Magic and Solomon Carstairs, if it's urgently requested by the head of the Department of Mysteries.

"Of course," Yavin was wrapping up his explanation of what had happened in St.Mungo's[1] that morning, "I, aha, I don't suspect they were romantic but their past involvement complicates present matters. She's already, hm, already proven herself a wild card." Miranda could deny having feelings for Musgrave but that didn't mean Musgrave couldn't have feelings for her; and he was the patient.

The Head Healer's emotions were a problem for her husband and therapist, not their treatment room.

He smiled grimly at either men. Solomon was in the chair next to him, where the two of them had taken a seat across from the Minister's desk. This was a very different conference from his last visit. For one thing, their subject was not here to defend herself. Carstairs looked like he was either very angry or very amused. Or both.

"She's agreed to regular therapy and, that is, and supervision by a Legilimens." Yavin added, not wanting to bias them towards one decision or the other. "No time alone with Lawrence. He seems, um, seems eager to get on with the actual work."

1.	A Broken Place

Colour flooded to the Minister’s cheeks and nose. Since taking the top job in the British Ministry, it rarely left them. Every step of progress came with niggles and stumbles, some bigger than others. It had been days, not even weeks, since Yavin Morgenthau had revealed himself as a false hatstand and further revealed himself as part of Edwin’s dementor plan. Department of Mysteries, Musgrave, dementors, all with one long-legged-bold-cardigan-wearing wizard. Stroke of genius.

Edwin had taken his trouser belt buckle in a notch that morning. Due to the warmer August weather, he had opted for a silver-grey muggle-style three-piece suit over a crisp white shirt and blue speckled tie. He had discarded the jacket on arriving, despite Holmes ensuring a gentle cooling charm upon the office. Edwin was always warm. He would probably double-take Yavin Morgenthau’s appearance if he ever stepped in the office in similar attire. Instead, he was already becoming accustomed to the dazzling knitwear. The same might not be said for Solomon Carstairs.

He listened carefully to the account, resisting the temptation to interrupt, given this hastily arranged meeting had thrown his agenda into disarray. Holmes would take care of that, as ever, and Edwin was not yet at the point of needing a time-turner to complete his work, though it was tempting.

“He’s not even been at St Mungo’s a week,” Edwin frowned, thinking aloud, “and already our agreed research is compromised.” He exhaled and sat back in his comfortable desk chair, lacing his fingers together over his retreating belly. “And I am to understand you have made no progress, whatsoever?” It was partially a rhetorical question, a dare for Morgenthau to suggest he had somehow made progress other than to discredit the Head Healer.

“It is the same problem that we faced internally,” Edwin continued, gesturing to Solomon, who had tackled this issue directly. “Finding suitable minders who had not been friend, colleague, extended family proved difficult in the early days.” Thank goodness for the steady hand of Fendrel Stump. One capable appointment Carstairs had made, but one capable hand who could be more usefully deployed elsewhere than enjoying literature.

“What are our options then?” The Minister reached for a nearby manilla document folder, flicking it open to survey the innards - failsafes for if this all went south, and south it had gone so very quickly. “We find a more suitable healer, we bring him back here to Nine, or we put him in the North Sea where he damned well belongs.” Irritably, he looked to the wizards for their opinions.

In spite of this setback, Solomon couldn't help but feel vindicated. He knew that Miranda was going to abuse her position over Musgrave somehow and here they were discussing the fact that she'd bullied him into distress just yesterday afternoon. The Minister was much more displeased. How could anyone be so displeased in the face of Yavin's bewildering sweaters?

            "And I am to understand you have made no progress, whatsoever?" Glass demanded.

Much like any head of level nine who found themselves not particularly answerable to anyone, Morgenthau shrugged. "It's only been a week," Solomon interjected mildly - he hadn't expecting anything from the hospital until they were well on their way towards Hallow's eve. This emergency meeting had come as quite the surprise.

Fine position they were in now. Where o where to put Lawrence Musgrave? He crossed his legs and eyed the folder that Glass was examining, already looking for the next step.

"Who else could we appoint?" Sol asked, glancing at his colleague.
            "Misselthorpe," Yavin replied with a skeptical expression. "But he might not, ah, be the better Legilimens."

He didn't bloody care about who was the better one! Solomon wasn't keen on sending Musgrave to Azkaban after having gone through all the trouble of the paperwork between themselves, Graves, and St.Mungo's. To have the wizard taken out of hospital in itself felt counterproductive.

"So you want him in nine," he looked between the two men, serious. "Or is there somebody else we should be considering?"
            "I don't, hm, I don't think Miranda is necessarily out of the question." Morgenthau steepled his fingers. "Under the appropriate restrictions, level nine supervision, and with... ahm, with Lawrence's permission."

Solomon snorted. Lawrence and his attorney's permission, perhaps.

"Miranda intentionally hid these details from us. I don't know if we can continue to trust her," he reminded the older gentleman and looked at Edwin. "We need to see how this research can help us, so I can't advise throwing him to the North Sea."

Though Department Head and Minister did not confer, they both shared the same thought about the legilimens. Morgenthau was a very capable legilimens, partly the reason for his appointment, but he had a Department to lead as well as this research to collaborate on. St Mungo’s were meant to be shouldering the brunt of it all, and Miranda had just crapped in the bed, so to speak.

Edwin huffed subtly, and maintained his frown, staring away in middle distance from his two colleagues. He hadn’t been utterly serious about the North Sea.

“She hid this from us, and he hardly happened to bring it up either,” the Minister compared, as if Head Healer and prisoner were no different. “He is too good a resource to waste, and every day he’s there without occupation, more dementor incidents chalk up and time and money lost.”

What was Miranda playing at? They were out on a limb here with allowing her to have him at St Mungo’s, and every fuck up meant that Harper Graves could slice a few years off his potential sentence. It wouldn’t make for anything less than the rest of his sorry life, but it was the principle. Why was everything so ruddy glacial?

“What restrictions are you proposing, then?” Edwin asked Morgenthau, intrigued at how this could be salvaged with Miranda still involved other than as Head Healer of the hospital used.

He was less perturbed about Lawrence not bringing up the sexual history with Miranda, than with Miranda having not disclosed it. Musgrave didn't know what was happening outside of his room - it would have been a risk for him to talk about something that might have earned him the ire of a woman who could barge in on his privacy without warning. This, of course, was not how Glass saw the world or situation.

Yavin concluded that the Minister was tallying up this situation in a series of losses and gains, while Solomon seemed more inclined to do what was right.

             “What restrictions are you proposing, then?”

He didn't hesitate.

"Miranda will engage a therapist before every, aha, every appointment with Lawrence, on a weekly basis. She can't see him unless a trained Legilimens is in the room. And, um, with your blessing, an Unspeakable watching." Yavin was taking no chances with the Head Healer, aware she might coerce her own Legilimens Healers.

A part of him was more than disappointed with her. He had spent some years of his life having to help victims who, in their vulnerability, had been taken advantage of by people they trusted. People who themselves had suffered. Lawrence should be able to trust his Healer.

Now they had to construct restrictions to artificially enforce a sense of trust. His brow darkened with thought. "I advise an allotment of, hm, of time. Two hours at most. For now," Yavin shrugged and uncrossed his legs to leaned forward. "Subject to extension if treatment becomes, hah, becomes extensive."

As he asked, Edwin nudged a deep green quill sleeping on the blotter. His wide, grand desk was full of papers and dossiers, not untidily, but in reflection of a busy man who worked at his desk rather than held it ceremonially. Everything was generally aligned, tucked away from would-be prying eyes. The only sign of personality beyond the job a single framed family photograph of Edwin, his parents and sisters, taken some years ago when they were all younger, less lined.

The quill sprung to life, shuddering its long spine like a dog casting off rain from its coat. Then at once, it began scribbling into an open notebook to Edwin’s right. It noted the key points in midnight blue ink, and paused in midair as Yavin paused to think, twisting as if regarding the Department Head with the very same interest the Minister held.

“An unspeakable?” The Minister queried. “You are proposing we oversee every act of the Head Healer with Musgrave with both a legilimens and an unspeakable?” He glanced down at the notes, as if to be entirely sure. “A possibility of three bodies in the room along with the subject, and one on the door?” He laboured the maths, maybe.

“And if Miranda were not involved?”

              "An unspeakable? You are proposing...both a legilimens and an unspeakable?"

Yavin watched the quill jot down its notes, looking up only to answer the Minister's queries. They were practical ones. Level nine already had a substantial budget, some of which went to items or projects unaccountable due to the secret nature of their department. Giving other duties to the Unspeakables meant sparing them from his floor.

"At some points the Unspeakable and Legilimens might be, ah, the one and the same." Yav clarified - they had Legilimens who worked in the Brain Room after all. "But in other, hm, in other cases I do not think they need to be in the room. There is a viewing window."

A place to ensure that Miranda was in full view and hearing. "Could become complicated," Solomon unhappily remarked, and the older wizard bowed his head to concede the point.

Naturally, Sol was both the unhappiest and most vindicated. It had been his idea to watch Miranda and now the woman had gone and proven his suspicions correct. Yavin's eyes gleamed thoughtfully behind his spectacles as he considered alternatives.

"Healer Misslethorpe might prove an appropriate replacement to Miranda," he explained, remembering that she'd been ready to give it up to him anyway if Yavin had gleaned anything dangerous in her thoughts. "Or as a, aha, a final option, bring him to level nine."

The countenance he wore was neutral, neither keen nor critical of the idea.

“… there is a viewing window.”

It was still a use of staff that would be better deployed elsewhere. As Solomon said, complicated, and needless. Their safeguards had proven rather imperative after all.

“Healer Misslethorpe might prove an appropriate replacement to Miranda…” Yavin suggested, which had been one of their backup plans.

“He has proved rather reliable,” Edwin agreed, “Took charge of the St Mungo’s operation for Gamp, dealt with the family and our Head Healer. Didn’t I see his name amongst the arrangements to get Musgrave to St Mungo’s too?” Edwin looked to Solomon who had dealt with all of that. “Maybe after all this we might suggest to the board that they have a suitable successor for Storm.”

His eyebrows raised and fell quickly as he suggested it. The Ministry had good relations with the Daily Prophet with Cuffe, and Miranda Storm had previously been in allegiance with Minister Zephyr. She was meant to be in agreement with Edwin too, but she’d rather lost the plot it seemed.

“Much as keeping him under our noses is preferable for the security,” Edwin added in a more reasonable, thoughtful manner, “we are performing this research under the guise of providing necessary healing to our defendant. There are some bleeding hearts on the Wizengamot who may not see a move to Nine as quite the same. But we can always argue the security. Nothing to stop a healer coming to us if it comes to it.” He lifted his palms, weighing up the options.

“Best to give Misslethorpe’s background a once over, Solomon. Although he’s good, I have a nagging feeling he’s still caught up in the family business.” But they were very much running out of viable solutions. Irritated at the continuing delays, Edwin muttered grimly, “At times I feel it would have been easier if he’d turned up dead in a ditch.” 

            "Didn’t I see his name amongst the arrangements to get Musgrave to St Mungo’s too?"

A quick nod. Solomon was only half-listening to the Minister of Magic, preoccupied as he was by thoughts to do with Musgrave. It was like a morbid tale of Goldilocks. Azkaban was too hot and St.Mungo's was too cold, so where was the porridge that wouldn't burn or freeze the convict's tongue? He didn't approve of level nine. People disappeared or were forgotten on level nine.

Sometimes even he forgot about the Dementor down there. Out of sight, out of mind.

"I'll run the usual checks on Misslethorpe." Sol confirmed with a grim smile and glanced Morgenthau, who was looking at Edwin rather thoughtfully after that remark about Lawrence turning up dead. "But if it comes out alright, I do think he's the right man for the job."

Insofar as he could tell, Sandy had been nothing but cooperative with level two after all. Unlike the contentious Head Healer.

            "Hm, yes. Of course." Yavin's expression smoothed out into a diplomatic smile. "We'll, aha, we'll await word from the Ministry before proceeding then."

There was something too easy about the exchange. Solomon wondered if he was maybe too used to having to argue every time Musgrave came up in conversation. The head of level nine did not seem especially bothered about which direction they took, as long as the 'patient' was safeguarded.

“… I do think he’s the right man for the job.”
“Good, because we’re fast running out of them.” Edwin agreed.

“We’ll, aha, we’ll await word from the Ministry before proceeding then.” The way Yavin phrased that, to suggest he was not also part of the Ministry, reinforced that Level Nine thinking that they were beyond… Edwin didn’t rush to correct him. Of course he should wait, even if Edwin were frustrated at Miranda Storm’s actions causing unnecessary delay.

On the one hand Edwin could feasibly continue to delay what would be one of the longest trials since the war, to allow for St Mungo’s to pick what little meat remained on the bones, or he could let the wizengamot put an end to a pointless piece of research if it came to it. Though it would be gracious if that sorry state of a wizard could do them a favour, as he had been commissioned to in the beginning. It would justify the time and effort expended on his stay on Level 2.

“Yes,” Edwin replied, closing the folder. “Carstairs will confirm your healer, and if not, we shall have the Head Healer in here to explain herself.”



End